Family Ties
by anitafaithfull
Summary: John's not the best father in the world to Dean, Sam AND Adam. Includes HurtDean, HurtSam, HurtAdam...I suppose.
1. Chapter 1

Okay so it hasn't been done to death yet, it's not-so-good John with Adam included.

Disclaimer: ain't making money off it, therefore don't own it.

1

The sun, as always woke Dean up. The tiny house they'd rented on the wrong side of town barely had beds let alone curtains. He checked his watch; it was a quarter to seven. He'd better wake his brothers up. He got to his feet, his muscles protesting from a month of sleeping on the floor, and folded up the thin blanket he'd used, dropping it on top of his meagre pillow, another folded blanket.

Walking over to the sofa he allowed himself a small smile. Sam and Adam always looked so peaceful while they slept, a far cry from when they were awake. He touched Sam's shoulder gently.

"Sammy, wake up buddy," he said softly, not wanting to wake their father, who, no doubt, was passed out in the only bedroom. Sam's eyelids fluttered and the sixteen year old stirred.

"Is it morning already?" he groaned.

"Yeah, wake up your brother and I'll get breakfast started."

Dean quietly moved over to the kitchen and began to fill two bowls with cereal; he'd have some food when he got Dad up. John would most probably want to go to the nearby diner to get a big greasy breakfast after the night of drinking he'd had. Just thinking about the previous night made Dean gingerly touch the dark bruise he knew he had without looking on his jaw.

They'd had a fight, as always. They didn't have enough money so John had sent Dean out to hustle some pool. The night had been cold and rainy and there hadn't been many people at the bar so, even though he'd cleaned out every man there, Dean had only returned with two hundred dollars. He'd tried to explain this to John but the man wouldn't listen after half a bottle of whiskey. Dean had tried to be silent, but when John hit him so hard he slammed his ribs into the kitchen table leaving a dent in the wood, he'd had to stifle a cry. It had still woken up Adam though.

"Dean?"

The eldest of the Winchester brothers was brought out of his thoughts by his youngest brother, nine year old Adam. Adam's eyes were glued to the fresh bruises on Dean's face.

"Breakfast's almost ready kid," said Dean. "You want orange juice?"

"I thought you said you were fine," Adam said, now noticing Dean's arm wrapped protectively around his bruised ribs. "Last night you said you were fine."

"I am fine Adam. Orange juice or not?" Dean asked again trying to stay off the topic.

Adam sighed and shook his head, sitting down at the table in front of one of the two bowls of cereal. Dean was silent as he put the kettle on to make himself some coffee.

Sam ducked out of the bathroom just as Dean put the milk on the table. He joined Adam at the table and started his breakfast. Dean sat down with his coffee and Sam chanced a look at his brother's face, seeing the bruises but not saying anything.

"How much did you make last night?" Sam asked.

"Two hundred bucks."

"That's not much."

"There were only three people there, including the bartender," replied Dean.

"Bet Dad wasn't happy," Sam said.

"Can't you tell?" Dean answered, his voice neutral.

"Yeah I can tell," replied Sam quietly.

Adam was silent, picking at his food. The kid was skinny and never really ate much despite Dean and Sam encouraging him to eat more. It just wasn't happening for him. He had to deal with school, the fact that all the kids knew that his family were little more than a bunch of drifters, and an abusive father who'd just picked him up one day from his home. Afterwards, Dean had told him in the kindest words possible what their family did for a living and how that involved his mother and her untimely death at the hands of a ghoul.

That had been over a year ago now and he had warmed considerably to both of his half brothers, Dean especially. To him, Dean was the protector of the three of them, always taking their father's attention off the two youngest brothers and onto himself, often leaving himself free to be beaten black and blue by John.

This aspect of Dean was the one thing that frustrated Sam however. Dean was always throwing himself in harm's way. Be it on the latest hunt of Dad's or protecting his two brothers. Sam was sixteen years old now; he knew that he and Dean stood a fighting chance against their father but Dean didn't like the idea. He didn't want anything to happen to his younger brothers. While he was there, he'd take the brunt of John's anger and he wouldn't let either of his brothers get hurt.

Once Sam and Adam had finished their breakfast, Dean stood, one hand still over his ribs and placed the bowls in the sink.

"Your ribs okay?" Sam asked.

"They're fine," replied Dean as he washed the bowls and placed them on the side of the sink to dry. "Why don't you two get ready for school and I'll drive you in."

Adam nodded and hurried over to his duffel bag to pull out the school books he kept in there. Sam, meanwhile, moved over to Dean.

"Why do you let him do this?" he asked in a whisper.

"Do what, Sammy?" Dean replied, not meeting his brother's eyes as he put the milk back in the fridge. As he closed the fridge door Sam reached out and jabbed his ribs softly but to great effect.

Dean gasped and almost fell, throwing out a hand to the table to stop his descent to the floor. Breathing hard he straightened and glared at Sam.

"Do that," Sam said simply.

"Because I don't want him doing it to you," Dean answered. "I can take it, I'm fine."

"Sure you are," said Sam. "Why don't you fight back?"

Dean looked at Sam in disbelief and gestured to his own thin body. "Do you think I could take on Dad? First of all, he's taller than me. Second of all he weighs twice as much as me. That's enough to turn anyone sane off the idea. Thirdly, what happens when he's knocked me out and is twice as angry cause I fought back? Huh? What do you think he's gonna do?"

"Nothing he hasn't done before," said Sam. The few times that John had beaten Dean unconscious and was still fuming had left lasting memories on both Sam and Adam. However, he was never as rough with them as he was with Dean.

"It gets worse, trust me," said Dean. He sighed. He knew he was fighting a losing battle here. "You've seen Dad lately, haven't you? He's drinking more, he getting angrier more often. He thinks he might have figured out a way to track the demon."

Dean didn't have to explain, Sam knew exactly which demon his brother was talking about.

"Things like electrical storms, crop failure, cattle deaths, I don't know, something like that," Dean continued. "The problem is, he'll find the pattern in one town will do some research and find no mothers that have been killed on their kid's six month birthday. He keeps coming up against brick walls."

"He told you all this?" Sam asked.

Dean glanced almost imperceptibly over his Sam's shoulder to see Adam listening intently to what they were saying even though he had a book propped open in front of him. Dean didn't mind him eavesdropping, they'd told him about their mother a long time ago.

"Man, I've been the one helping him with the research," Dean said exasperatedly. "Every time he hits a brick wall, he takes it out on me. Like last night."

"I thought last night was about running out of money?"

"That's what pushed him over the edge. That and me not getting any more than two hundred bucks. He's gonna get some more fake credit cards, though, so we'll be sweet in a couple weeks," said Dean pleading with his eyes to get Sam to back off. There were only so many excuses he could think of at the one time with his head aching like it was.

Sam thought about it for a moment. "Dean. That's all well and good but he"-

Sam cut himself off as the three brothers heard footsteps in the hallway. John Winchester walked into the kitchen and sat down in one of the chairs. Dean, Sam and Adam were silent.

"What, no good morning?" John said gruffly.

"Morning sir," the three of them replied immediately in unison.

"Dean, get me some coffee."

Dean nodded.

"Sam go pack your bag for school," Dean said. Sam glared at his brother. "Now. Please."

Sam walked over to where Adam was and started shoving books into his bag.

Dean turned the kettle back on and once it had boiled made John the mug of coffee he wanted.

"Dean," John said.

"Yes sir?"

"Aspirin."

"Yes sir."

Dean went to the cupboard above the sink where they kept medicines and the like. He reached to where the aspirin was kept but his hand merely grabbed air. There was no aspirin left. They'd had some just yesterday, he thought, his mind racing trying to figure out a way to tell his father. Oh, that's right; John had been hungover like hell yesterday as well.

"Dean? You hear me?" John asked, his temper rising.

"Uh, we're out of aspirin," said Dean softly. "That's okay I'll go out a get some right now."

He reached for the keys to the Impala but John's hand caught his wrist. John was on his feet in an instant. He spun Dean around and slammed his son's back into the kitchen counter making him gasp.

"What do you mean, we're out of aspirin?" John demanded. "We only just got some the other day."

"No, we got it"-

Dean was cut off when John backhanded him across the face.

"Don't you dare talk back to me," John said, hitting his son again.

"I'm sorry sir," said Dean. "Please, I'll go out and get some."

"I bet you took some and that's why we don't have any, am I right?"

"No sir, I swear I didn't take any of it."

John finally let go of Dean's wrist which would be bruised soon and buried his rock hard fist straight into Dean's injured ribs. Dean fell to the floor and bit his lip to keep from crying in pain, as it was tears sprang to his eyes as he tried to fill his lungs with air.

"Get your brothers to school and on the way back, get me some aspirin and don't you dare even think of taking any. Ever. You hear me?" John ordered.

Dean nodded; he hadn't caught his breath enough to answer. John kicked him in the stomach making his double over in pain.

"Answer me when I talk to you boy."

"Yes sir."

Dean stayed on the floor trying to breathe while John finished his coffee and returned to his bedroom. As soon as his bedroom door closed, Adam and Sam rushed to his side. The reactions of Dean's brothers were completely different.

"Dean, are you okay?" Adam asked, helping his older brother sit up.

Sam didn't offer Dean any help. "Why the hell do you do that? Let him beat you for nothing. You did nothing wrong," he whispered.

"I'll be fine Adam," he replied, making sure he didn't let any pain cloud his face.

"You didn't answer me," Sam said. Dean looked up at his brother almost in shock.

"Maybe if you stopped sounding like Dad I might." Sam felt utterly betrayed at those words and turned away from his brother and stood up.

"Sam, please, stop, I'm sorry, I didn't mean what I said," Dean pleaded with his brother. Sam faced his brother. "I'm sorry, please, just help me up and I'll get you guys to school okay?"

Sam sighed and walked back over to Dean. He hooked his arm around Dean's waist and helped him to his feet. Dean immediately bent over with a gasp, one hand on the kitchen counter as the pain returned to his ribs.

"You can't stand up, how the hell are you gonna be able to drive?" Sam said.

"Watch me."

While his brothers packed up the rest of their things and brushed their teeth, Dean sat at the kitchen table and waited for the pain to subside somewhat. Once they were ready to go, Dean had become accustomed to the agony in his ribs and picked up the car keys once again.

The drive to the school was silent. Sam and Adam both went to the same school that catered to children in Kindergarten right up to Year 12 students. Dean had found the school in the area and picked it knowing that it would be easier for them to look out for each other.

He stopped the Chevrolet outside the school and put it in park before turning to his brothers.

"I'll be back at three o'clock okay?"

"Okay Dean, bye," said Adam getting out of the car.

Once Adam was out Sam turned to Dean. "Will you still be alive to pick us up this afternoon?"

"Please don't say that Sam. Of course I will. Take care of your brother. I've gotta go."

"Bye Dean."

"See ya later Sammy," Dean said offering one of his rare smiles.

"Later," his brother said, turning to get out of the car.

Once his brothers had gotten out of sight Dean let out the breath he'd been holding. His ribs hurt so damn bad. He pulled his wallet. Inside was the two hundred he'd won the night before. He then dug his hand into the inside pocket and pulled out the extra fifty he hadn't told his father about. He was gonna get some aspirin for John and some extra strong painkillers for himself he decided. He needed them.


	2. Chapter 2

2

"So...where's Dad?" Adam finally asked.

Dean had picked up his brothers from school and brought them home with the promise of pizza for dinner. Take-out wasn't an occasional thing in the Winchester household as more often than not there wasn't enough food to feed four people in the house. When they got home their father was nowhere to be seen and Dean had fallen asleep on the couch, something he never did when John was around.

"He's on a hunt. In Illinois," Dean replied. "There's a couple werewolves running loose in Chicago and a shapeshifter in Elgin."

"How long's he gonna be away?" Sam asked.

Dean paused to take a bite of the pizza. He wasn't really hungry, just tired. Painkillers did that to you. "He reckons about three weeks or so. But he said it could be longer cause there were a couple of other things around there."

"So...what are we gonna do?" Adam said. "Are we gonna stay here?"

"Nah, the rent runs out in a couple days so we're just gonna pack up and stay at Bobby's for a while until Dad gets back. Good thing he bought that truck, otherwise we'd be Greyhound-ing it to South Dakota."

"We're just gonna leave," Sam said. "Again? Dean I've got exams coming up next week."

"Sammy, there's nothing I can do about it," Dean said trying to placate his younger brother. "Dad didn't leave me enough money to pay the rent for the next week even. As it is, I'm gonna have to hustle some pool tonight to make sure we got enough for gas."

"Dean, do you have to go out tonight?" Adam asked quietly.

Dean knew that even though Sam was gonna be there that Adam would want Dean to stay back as well.

"Yeah, I gave Dad one hundred and fifty bucks from the two hundred fifty I won the other night so I've only"-

"I thought you said you only won two hundred?" Sam asked.

"Yeah well, I won fifty extra from the bartender himself. But I wasn't gonna tell you that while Dad was still within earshot Sammy, you think I've got a death wish?"

Dean turned back to Adam. "I've only got a hundred bucks. We gotta be able to eat tomorrow morning and on the drive to Bobby's. And I know the Impala's almost out of gas. So we gotta fill up as well. Hundred bucks ain't gonna cover it."

Dean didn't really want to go out and leave his brothers at home alone tonight but he had no choice, they needed money.

"Sorry guys but I gotta go," Dean finished with a sigh.

There were two pieces of pizza left and even though Dean had only had two slices and his brothers had eaten four he left the two for them. He checked his watch.

"Alright, I'm gonna head to the bar just down the road okay? I'll have my phone so call me if anything happens," he told Sam and Adam. "Anything at all. I won't be home late, promise."

Adam and Sam nodded and Dean picked up his keys.

* * * * *

At eleven o'clock that night, Dean finally returned to the cramped house with three hundred dollars stuffed into his wallet. He checked on Adam and Sam, both fast asleep on the couch and gently grabbed a pillow that neither of his brothers were using and laid down on the floor.

That morning Sam woke up first. The first thing he did when he opened his eyes was search for Dean, relaxing when he say his brother out like a light on the floor next to the couch. Sam glanced at his watch. Seven o'clock. He gently woke up Adam and the two of them made and ate their breakfast quietly so as not to wake up Dean. Their oldest brother looked unbelievably tired with dark circles under his eyes.

Once Sam had packed his bag for school he went to wake up Dean. He gave his brother a soft nudge on the shoulder.

"Sammy...that you?"

"Yeah, Dean, wake up man, you gotta give us a lift to school," Sam said.

This woke Dean up quick. He looked at his watch and then moved his gaze up to Sam. "You guys had breakfast?" Sam nodded. "Brushed your teeth and packed your bags and everything?" Sam nodded again. "Jeez, you won't even need me soon," Dean replied jokingly, covering a yawn with the back of his hand.

"Don't say that," said Adam. He always took everything so literally.

"Just a joke, kid," Dean replied. He stood up and stretched his muscles. Digging his hand into the pocket of his jeans he pulled out the keys to the Impala. "Right, you ready to go?"

* * * * *

School seemed to drag on forever for both Sam and Adam that Friday. Winter was coming and it could definitely be felt in the air. Both boys were wearing almost half of the threadbare clothes they owned that day and were still cold. When the bell finally rang at three o'clock Sam and Adam practically ran from their classes to the parking lot to see the shiny black Chevrolet and Dean sitting in the front seat.

Once they were in Dean sped back to the house. "Alright once we get back grab your stuff and we're heading to Bobby's. I've already packed most of it."

Once they got back to the house, Sam and Adam found all of their meagre belongings, like Dean said, already rolled and packed into their duffel bags. They grabbed the last few things Dean had missed and some of the food from the kitchen that they'd be able to eat on the road.

Finally they were in the car and had set off for Bobby's. They'd been staying in a small town in western Ohio and it was going to be a long drive to South Dakota so Dean had told his brothers to get comfortable. He'd already filled up the Impala to the brim during the day so he probably wouldn't have to stop to get gas until that morning.

The landlord, who owned the house they'd rented, had delivered a letter that morning to Dean personally asking when they would pay rent for the previous three weeks. Dean had assured him that the money would be there the next day before cursing his father for lying about the rent to him. He had enough to worry about, not really wanting to add a money hungry landlord into the deal.

Dean drove through the night only stopping at six in the morning to fill up with gas and grab some coffee. The roads had been devoid of traffic all night and they'd be making the drive in record time.

They arrived at Bobby's place Saturday afternoon having made a stop mid-morning to have some food at a roadside diner.

As soon as Dean saw the dilapidated sign outside Bobby's Salvage Yard his energy dropped. He'd been driving for almost twenty-four hours straight and, like the Chevrolet, was running purely on fumes. He pulled up the Impala in front of Bobby's house and put it in park, dragging the key from the ignition. Slumping down in the bench seat, he tried to stay awake long enough to get out of the car.

Dean was just about to walk around to the trunk when Adam brought him up short.

"We got everything from the trunk," he said simply.

"Oh." Dean gave his little brother another look. He'd loaded himself up with bags. "What- here let me take one."

"Just go inside, we got it," said Sam.

Dean could only nod and stepped onto the porch. He was about to knock on the door when Bobby opened it.

Bobby took one look at the dark bruises still showing on Dean's face from his father's hand and the haggard expression he wore and said, "Room's all set up, take a nap. We'll call you for dinner."

"Thanks," Dean said, his speech slurred slightly by exhaustion.

He staggered to the bedroom and lay down on one of the two single beds, asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Meanwhile, Bobby helped Adam and Sam in with their bags. They left them just outside the room where Dean was sleeping and returned back to Bobby's kitchen.

"You boys thirsty, want anything to drink?" Bobby asked. The brothers nodded and Bobby fetched them each a glass of water. It was actually Holy water but Bobby didn't need to tell the boys that. They knew it and the glasses were drained a second later without any repercussions. Old habits die hard.

"How was the drive?" Bobby asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table next to Adam.

"Long," replied Sam. Adam nodded in agreement.

"When did you leave Ohio?"

"Last night," said Adam.

"Last night," Bobby echoed. "Wait, Dean drove here from Ohio in a day?"

"Yeah, through the night," Sam answered. "I don't think he liked Ohio."

"Uh huh," Bobby murmured through a mouthful of beer. "How bout we let Dean sleep for a bit more and then we'll have some dinner huh?"

Both Adam and Sam nodded eagerly.

"You kids can watch some TV if you like, the remote's somewhere, I can't seem to find it..."

"Thanks Bobby!" called Sam as he and Adam parked themselves on the couch in front of Bobby's ancient set.

After a couple of hours at seven-thirty, Bobby decided it was time for dinner.

"Sam you wanna go wake Dean up?" he asked as he donned his 'Kiss the Cook' apron.

"Sure," replied Sam jumping up, while Adam helped Bobby set the table.

Sam walked down the hall and entered the bedroom they'd be using while they were at Bobby's place. Dean was passed out on one of the beds, dead to the world. He hadn't even bothered to take his boots off. He looked unbelievably tired; his face was pale which made the dark circles under his eyes and the dark bruises marring his skin even darker. Sam felt bad that he had to wake his brother but he knew that Dean would at least need some food.

He reached out and shook his brother's shoulder softly. "Dean, dinner time," he said just as soft. He knew from experience that Dean, as well as Bobby, kept knives under their pillows, and after a couple of close shaves he always woke Dean up gently.

Dean was out cold though. He didn't move. Sam went for Dean's wrist, trying to jerk him from sleep. He got the result he wanted, but not in the right way, as Dean came around with a gasp, ripping his wrist from Sam's hand.

"Damn, Sammy!" Dean cradled his bruised wrist in his right hand, completely awake and not a trace of weariness showing.

"Dean, I'm sorry," Sam blurted out. "I forgot, your shirt was covering it, I'm sorry."

"Hey, Sammy, it's okay," Dean quickly said. "It's fine, I'm fine, you just surprised me is all."

"Uh...Bobby's says, it's time for dinner."

"Sure, I'll be there in a tick okay?"

"Okay."

Sam practically ran from the room, feeling unbelievably guilty. He knew his brother had said he was alright; just one look at the dark bruises on his brother's wrist was enough to let Sam know that his brother wasn't okay. That and the fact that on the drive he'd barely even used his left hand unless he desperately needed two hands to drive. Sam made a mental note to mention it to Bobby later on.

Dean sat on the side of his bed gently rubbing his wrist, trying to relieve some of the white hot pain that was running through the bones. He'd hoped it was just bruised or swollen or sprained or something. But it looked as if it might be broken. His dad was going to have a fit when he found out. He'd have to talk to Bobby about it later, he decided.

Dean got up and stumbled down the hallway to take a seat at Bobby's kitchen table in between his two brothers.

"What's for dinner Bobby?" he asked.

"Chinese," replied Bobby, standing at the kitchen counter, his back to the table.

"You cook Chinese?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Of course I do," Bobby said as he sat down a take-out box in front of each Winchester.

Adam and Sam immediately started laughing. They'd been in on the joke from the start. Bobby had driven into town and picked up the food while Dean was still sleeping. Dean allowed himself a smile.

"Sorry, I thought you boys would be here a bit later. You came earlier than I thought," Bobby said, tucking into the food. "Didn't have time to go out and get groceries."

"S'cool, I'm up for anything," said Dean. "I'm starving," he added through a mouthful of noodles. Inside he was secretly glad that Bobby had managed to pick a style of food that didn't require both hands to eat.

"Even Bobby's home-cooked Chinese?" Sam asked, making Adam start to giggle again.

"Well, maybe not that," Dean said with a grin.

"Boys, this is my house, and whatever I cook, you're gonna eat, you hear me?" Bobby said, his tone playful.

As Dean watched 'Uncle' Bobby joke around with his younger brothers he couldn't help noticing the stark differences between Bobby and his own father. Dean shoved away the thought quickly. John wasn't here at the moment. He could relax for a little while.


	3. Chapter 3

3

The rest of dinner passed uneventfully and at about nine o'clock both Adam and Sam were starting to get tired after having slept in the car the previous night. Dean let his brothers have the beds in the room, telling them he'd take the couch in the living room. He said good night to Sam and Adam and returned to the kitchen.

Bobby had just pulled two bottles of beer and looked up as Dean came into the kitchen.

"Want one?"

"I'd love one," Dean replied.

"Not until you show me your wrist," Bobby said, sitting at the table.

"What? Did Sam"-

"Sam hasn't said anything. I can tell by the way you're holding it. Let me have a look," Bobby said. His joking, happy facade was gone.

Dean gingerly rolled back the sleeve of his shirt and showed his left wrist to Bobby.

"Jesus, kid, you couldn't have shown me this sooner?" Bobby said. He took Dean's wrist carefully in his own hands, watching as the boy winced.

Dean's wrist was almost black, it was so bruised.

"Does it hurt to move?" Bobby asked gently moving his hand.

"Damn! Bobby, yes it does hurt to move," Dean replied through gritted teeth.

"Okay, okay," Bobby replied, trying to feel the bones in Dean's wrist as the eldest Winchester hissed in pain.

"Do you have to do that?" he said as Bobby touched a particularly painful part.

"I don't think anything's broken," Bobby said, ignoring Dean's comment. "I'll wrap it though. There might be a fracture in there but your wrist hasn't swollen too much, so it won't need a cast or anything."

"Oh thank God," Dean breathed.

Bobby grabbed a roll of gauze and set about bandaging Dean's wrist to protect it from further damage.

"You wanna tell me how this happened?" he asked.

"Me and Dad were casing a house in Ohio that had a poltergeist in it. Threw me down a flight of stairs," Dean lied.

"The poltergeist or John?" Bobby's question seemed innocent enough but Dean was taking no chances.

"The poltergeist, Bobby."

"Uh huh. And that's why the bruise on your wrist is shaped like a hand," Bobby said. Dean hadn't expected that.

He looked up at Bobby and met his eyes. "I stepped onto the road and didn't see a car and Sam pulled me back," he said, knowing it was a lost cause.

"Cause Sam's grip is strong enough to bruise your wrist and possibly fracture bones."

This time Dean didn't look Bobby in the eye when he spoke. "What do you want me to say?"

"I wanna know what happened." It wasn't a question.

"I...there was uh...it was Dad," Dean finally settled on.

"John did this to you?" Bobby asked, trying to keep the anger from his voice. He pointed to the dark bruise on Dean's cheek. "I'm willing to bet he did that too huh?"

Dean nodded at both questions.

"Is that the only time he hit you?" Bobby asked.

Dean shook his head. He didn't think he could trust his own voice at the moment. John usually stayed away from hitting his sons in the face, a visible injury that couldn't be hidden by clothes. He'd gotten careless though, once Dean finished school. He didn't think that his son would have to answer to Bobby Singer.

"When did he start?" Bobby asked. He looked at the boy closer now. He was twenty years old. He'd grown to a decent height but hadn't really filled out. He was thin and seemed to weary for someone his age. The dark circles under his eyes and the bruise marring his face did nothing to better the image.

"He's not a bad father, Bobby, he's just...distracted I guess," was Dean's final reply.

"By what?"

"By everything it seems. By the demon, by the fact that he's got three sons to care for, by...all the goddamn alcohol he keeps in the damn house."

"He's drinking a lot?"

"Too much. He gets angry," Dean said. It was getting harder and harder for him to talk about it. "I don't want him to go after Sam and Adam so I just let him..." He trailed off.

"You just let him beat you up when he's drunk and sees fit?" Bobby asked incredulously.

"You didn't hear me, Bobby. If he hits me, he's not gonna hit Sam or Adam," Dean said. He met Bobby's eyes and Bobby could see the determination as well as the pain buried in the hazel depths.

Bobby sighed, he knew he was getting nowhere with Dean. "How's that bruise anyway? Want some ice for it?"

"Nah, it's too late to ice it anyway," Dean replied.

"Anything else?"

"What do you mean?" Dean looked up.

"Any other injuries that might need some medical attention that you've decided not to tell me about?"

"Bobby"-

"Well?"

"No. There aren't." Dean paused for a moment. He may as well tell Bobby. "Just my ribs. But I'm pretty sure they're just bruised, not cracked."

"Lemme see."

"What? Now?"

"Yeah now."

Dean sighed inwardly as he lifted up his shirt. He didn't need to look at Bobby's face to know how bad it looked. He knew it looked bad. His chest and stomach was more black and blue than anything else.

"Goddamnit Dean! Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Bobby said, his face aghast at the patchwork of bruises on his body.

"Well, it's not like I'm gonna show you this while Sam and Adam are still up," Dean countered.

"Do they know about this?"

Dean nodded. "They just haven't seen the bruises."

"So they saw John doing this to you?"

"Yeah they did," Dean answered regretfully, as Bobby gently prodded his ribs making sure none were broken.

"What do they think about it?" Bobby asked.

"How am I supposed to know? I'm not them."

"But you do know."

Dean sighed. "Sam doesn't like the fact that I take all of Dad's anger on myself. I think Adam's scared of Dad but feels at least a little bit protected by me."

Bobby straightened and sat back down in his chair at the table. "All good?" Dean asked.

"None of them are broken; I don't think they're cracked. Just badly bruised, should go down in a week or so," Bobby answered.

"Thanks Bobby," Dean said tiredly, covering a yawn with his hand.

"Alright I think it's time you hit the sack, or couch I suppose, I rustled up some spare pillows for ya and a couple blankets," Bobby said, indicating the pile next to the couch.

"Thanks," Dean murmured, suddenly drained, a combination of driving for twenty four hours straight and the previous conversation with Bobby. "Oh, by the way, the school...?"

"Yeah spoke to them the other day, the teachers know where Sam and Adam are at, and they've prepared exams for Sam to take this week. Lucky they only had a week left before holidays."

"I'll say," Dean replied. He collapsed on the couch getting the pillows and blankets positioned just how he liked it.

"Good night kid," Bobby said, turning off the light.

"Night Bobby, and, thanks."

"For what?" Bobby asked, one foot on the steps leading up to the second floor.

"Just...thanks."

Bobby nodded and went upstairs, about to have a sleepless night going over all of Dean's words about John.


End file.
